


Count the Cost

by JaneDavitt



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's spanking Xander, who can't seem to concentrate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Count the Cost

"How many?"

He waits for the sting to die down enough that his mouth can shape more than a hissed-out breath, and then gives in and just shakes his head mutely.

"Xander --" There's a warning there. "Supposed to be counting. How many?" A cool hand -- still cool, so it's early yet, low numbers, has to be -- strokes across the back of his balls, bunched up and ripe and tight. "Take a guess. Might get lucky."

It's fairly clear from the tone that Spike doesn't really rate his chances.

"Don't ... know. Lost count." Xander blinks after the lie, seeing black jeans, a bit of the bed and some carpet. Not interesting. He closes his eyes again, and concentrates on his ass, and the insistent throb-pulse-ache of his cock and balls. Fuck, but he's hard. "Eight?"

Spike snorts. "Not even close." He gets a warning tap, light and sharp. "Going to start over. Pay attention, this time, got it?"

"Yes, Spike." Meek. Obedient. Well... no. Not really. Not his style. Submissive? Yeah, because that's just a little bit different. And doesn't that make Spike quiver slightly, and doesn't it make that first one bite, especially as it's not the first, and it's landing on skin Xander knows is glowing red, the colour he can see if he closes his eyes just a little bit tighter.

Spike stops and asks him twice more. First time he gets it wrong, and Spike starts over. The second time, he's wailing and squirming and there are tears clogging up his throat and he gets it right.

"Thirty. Thirty, Spike. Please, I know it is, I counted, please --"

And Spike's hand comes down again, and Xander's head sinks low enough that he can press a kiss against Spike's knee, imploring.

"How many?"

"Sixty-three," Xander tells him, finally acknowledging each and every one since he went over Spike's knee. And he gets another, this one to be endured, not enjoyed, because Spike would've given him sixty, seventy, as many as he thought Xander could stand, but he's not happy at being tricked.

So Xander slides off Spike's lap and goes to his knees.

Penitent.

Waiting.

And Spike grins.


End file.
